“Perfusser,” interrupted Mrs. Bijur, with firmness, “I want to know what you intend to do about my roof?”
It was the professor’s turn to look astonished.
“What roof, madam?” he asked, still brushing hay-seed from his long-tailed black coat.
“Ther roof of my extension whar you hed thet thar lab-or-at-ory—whar you was making them messes that was liable to blow up.”
“Well, madam?”
“Wall, sir—they done it!”
“They done—did what, madam?”
“Blowed up!” responded Mrs. Bijur, with deadly calm.
“Good heavens, madam—impossible!”
“Not with them Soopendykes around!” was the confident response. “It’s my belief they’d a turned the Garden of Eden inter a pantominium. They——”